


back to everything that matters

by somehowunbroken



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-14 15:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: Connor's soulmark comes in on his seventeenth birthday just like it's supposed to. He's sure he doesn't get the name he's supposed to have, but life goes on anyway.





	back to everything that matters

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [thistidalwave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistidalwave/pseuds/thistidalwave) in the [PuckingRare2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2018) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> soulmark au. connor doesn't have "ryan" written on his skin. ryan doesn't have "connor" on his. they do the stupid thing and fall in love with each other anyway. sometimes you have to tell fate to go fuck itself.

Connor wakes up on his eighteenth birthday earlier than normal because there is very suddenly an entire teammate very much on top of him.

"Uh," he says, as eloquent as he can manage, because Dylan's face is _right there_ and it's too goddamned early for this. "What?"

"Happy birthday to you," Dylan starts singing. "Soulmate time! C'mon, man, show me your wrist!"

Connor blinks, a little bleary still, and reaches out with his right hand to shove at Dylan's face. "Go away. It'll still be there at a normal fucking time."

"But Davo," Dylan whines. He's shockingly awake for whatever godforsaken time it is, especially considering how much Dylan loves not being awake in the morning. "How'm I supposed to see if we're soulmates if you won't show me your arm?"

"Oh my god," Connor mumbles as Dylan starts laughing, but he shoves again and Dylan at least rolls off to the side. "As if you're my soulmate. Fate wouldn't be that much of an asshole."

"You love me," Dylan says confidently, tugging until Connor is curled up on his chest.

Connor sighs. "Unfortunately."

"C'mon, let's see it," Dylan says again, but gentler this time.

Soulmates are, at the same time, the most ridiculous thing in the world and the most enduring, the most important. Connor's been hoping for his and dreading it at the same time, because—

He shoves his left wrist at Dylan without looking at it first, and he feels his whole body sag when Dylan sucks in a sharp breath.

"Melissa," he says quietly, holding Connor's wrist gently in his hand. He presses his palm to the skin there, and Connor still doesn't look up, still can't bear to, but it's nice of Dylan to cover it for him anyway. "I'm—shit, Connor. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah," Connor mumbles. He wants to pull his wrist back, to hide it, but mostly he wants to close his eyes and pretend he dreamed the whole thing so he can go a little while longer without having to face the fact that fate is, actually, that much of an asshole. Why else would a gay guy have a woman's name on his wrist?

"Hey," Dylan says. He tucks Connor's wrist between them, trapping it against Connor's chest so he doesn't have to see it. "I brought you a present. You should—well, it's not wrapped, so you can't open it, but you should have it."

Connor swallows hard. "Dyls, I'm really not—"

"Davo," Dylan says, in that calm, gentle voice, and Connor opens his eyes. Dylan's smiling at him a little crookedly, and the hand that's not occupied with keeping Connor from entirely shaking apart at the seams is holding a wrist guard.

"Dylan," Connor says, and that's when he really, actually starts to cry.

It's tough going forward, but it's also not really an option; he pulls himself together eventually, and he goes to school, and he plays and he plays and he plays, and he doesn't think about _Melissa_ or what it all means. They make the playoffs but lose in a frankly embarrassing fashion, and then, before Connor knows it, it's time to head to Florida.

The draft is every single thing Connor imagined it would be and more: nerve-wracking, exhilarating, stressful, fun. He's known that he was the consensus first overall pick for a long, long time now, but it's still a relief when Edmonton calls his name instead of Eichel's, followed by a whole new set of concerns that had been lurking around in his brain. It's still an experience he wouldn't trade for anything, which is exactly what he says when Dylan asks how he is, three hours post-draft and finally back in their hotel room.

"I, uh," Dylan says. He's sitting on his bed and picking at his wrist guard; Connor kind of hates that the draft requires that everyone wear one, but he's grateful at the same time. Dylan and Mitch aren't careful or quiet or anything about their names on each other's wrists, but at least the requirement means that Connor doesn't have to explain why he's got a guard over his name.

"You?" Connor prompts when Dylan apparently gets lost in thought.

Dylan sighs and looks up at him. "I don't know if what I want to tell you is going to upset you or not," he says. "So I want to start by telling you that, and that I'm not telling you this to upset you, because, like. That's the last thing I ever want, okay?"

"Of course," Connor says, frowning a little. "What's on your mind, buddy?"

"Your," Dylan says, rolling his left wrist and poking at his guard again. "Your name. Uh, my brother Ryan and his soulmate met earlier this season. They literally bumped into each other on the street, and they had the whole brain connection thing right then and there, in the middle of the street in front of a Target."

"Okay," Connor says slowly. "That's… really nice for him?"

Dylan smiles a little. "She's a lesbian. Has a really serious girlfriend, two dogs, the whole nine yards. They decided to just be best friends forever."

Connor knows he's staring, but he's honestly only ever heard of non-romantic soulbonds maybe half a dozen times in his life, and always in hushed, sorrowful tones. "What?"

"I'm just saying," Dylan says. He finally peels his own guard off and tosses it to the bedstand. "You and Melissa, whoever she is? It's not a 'forever hiding in the closet' sentence. Maybe she'll end up being an even better bro than I am."

"Never," Connor says, automatic and vehement, but his mind is spinning. "So, what, Ryan's just gonna wear a guard for the rest of his life?"

Dylan bites the very corner of his lip, which is how Connor can tell that he doesn't really want to say anything, but he probably will anyway. Connor waits him out, and sure enough, Dylan sighs. "He got a big black rectangle tattooed over it," he says after a moment. "Mom, uh. She pretty much lost her shit when he came home at the end of the season, but apparently he and Sydney—that's his soulmate, Sydney—they went to get them together."

"A tattoo," Connor says. "That's… wow. That's super permanent."

"Uh, yeah," Dylan says, rolling his eyes pretty hard. "That was the idea. Neither one of them wanted to get, like, constant questions about it or whatever."

"Because covering it up like that won't raise questions?" Connor asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Dylan says simply. "Apparently it's a thing that people do when they find out that their soulmate died. That's what Ryan said."

"I…" Connor says, feeling his eyes go wide. "I didn't know that. I would've asked, probably."

Dylan shrugs a little. "Someone would've, like, smacked your arm and told you it was rude, I guess. Ryan figured it was a way to keep people from asking him about his mysterious Sydney or whatever."

"Yeah, I guess," Connor says, trying to tell his heartbeat to slow the fuck down, but... maybe he doesn't have to get asked about Melissa every day. It's definitely something to think about.

-0-

"Hey, Davo," Ryan says, grinning at him from the Stromes' porch. "Or should I say Captain McDavid?"

"Please don't," Connor says,, smiling back at him. "Welcome to the team, though, all that jazz."

Ryan laughs and his whole face crinkles up with it. "Thanks, I guess. It'll be kind of nice to have a fresh start, but don't tell John that."

"I'll leave it out of our weekly captainly meetings," Connor says easily, and Ryan laughs again. "Is Dylan around?"

"What, you didn't stop by just to give me the welcome speech?" Ryan asks, putting his hand delicately over his mouth. He's still grinning like crazy. "I'm hurt."

Connor laughs. "I mean, I'm a man of many talents," he says lightly, pushing his hand through his hair. "I can welcome you and still talk to Dyls. I might even congratulate Matty on the draft."

"Yeah, cool," Ryan says, but the humour is suddenly gone from his tone, and Connor realises that there's a slight frown on his face. He's staring at Connor. "Uh. Dylan's upstairs."

Connor frowns and takes a few steps towards Ryan. "Hey, sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Do you have questions? We should maybe get lunch soon. I _do_ want to talk to you about the team."

"No, sorry," Ryan says, and his eyes flick back to Connor's face. "It's, uh. I've only ever met one other person who…" His voice trails off, and now that Connor's closer, he can tell that Ryan's eyes flick down to his wrist.

"Oh," Connor says, eyes widening a little. "Oh, no, it's… um." He looks around; there's nobody, like, lurking in the driveway, but Connor's learned to be just the right amount of paranoid when it comes to privacy. "Actually, can we talk inside?"

"Sure," Ryan says, nodding a little too fast. He stands up and opens the front door, holding it for Connor to follow. They walk into the living room; Ryan pauses, but Mr. Strome is reading something on an iPad, so Ryan waits while Connor goes through the pleasantries and then leads him upstairs. Connor has known which room was which since he was sixteen, so he's not entirely surprised when Ryan stops one door short of Dylan's and nods for Connor to go inside.

"So," Connor says when they're inside, door firmly closed and Ryan looking at him worriedly.

"You don't have to tell me," Ryan says hastily. "I'm sorry. It's so rude to stare."

"I know about yours," Connor says before he can stop himself, and Ryan freezes. Connor bites his lip a little, but he shows Ryan his wrist, black rectangle tattooed over the skin there. "Dylan told me at the draft. Mine's… sort of the same."

"He told you?" Ryan says faintly, then shakes his head. "Hang on. I need to call Syd."

Connor nods and looks around; there's really nowhere to sit but the bed, so he shrugs a little and sits on the end while Ryan digs his phone out and calls someone. The conversation is short and really weird; even with Connor only able to hear one side of it, he can tell that there's something soulmate-y going on with the way they're talking to each other. After a few minutes, Ryan smiles a little and shakes his head.

"Okay, love you," he says. "Tell Erin I love her too." He laughs, then hangs up. "Sorry. We promised to let each other know if anyone found out, so…"

"No, that's fine," Connor says. "I can't believe Dylan didn't tell you. Especially after I got my name covered."

"So your soulmate isn't dead?" Ryan asks, apparently fine with the blunt approach now.

Connor shrugs. "Not that I know of. We haven't met."

Ryan blinks. "Then why…"

"I'm… like Syd," Connor says quietly, focusing hard on his wrist. "And my name was…"

" _Oh_ ," Ryan breathes out, sitting next to Connor. He throws his arm around Connor's shoulders, and Connor gratefully sinks into the hug. "Thanks for telling me. I… it's not firsthand, but I know what that feeling is like. I'm sorry."

Connor sighs, but he'd done all his crying over it years ago. "Thanks. Dylan knew that I was having a rough time dealing with it, and I guess that's why he told me what you and Syd did." He laughs a little as he sits back up. "I got it done less than a week after the draft. The guy knew who I was, and I told him that I didn't want to deal with every girl with that name trying to touch me to see if we matched, and he was cool with it."

"Not even a lie, I'm sure," Ryan says, nodding a little. "And, like. In the interest of full disclosure, here, I'm… both."

"Both," Connor echoes. "Like, _into_ both?"

"Into people, I guess," Ryan says, shrugging. "I guess I'd say I'm bi, if I was going to put a label on it, but mostly I don't bother."

"Thanks for telling me," Connor says, smiling a little. "Just so you know, the team knows about me, but there's another guy on the team who's only out to a few people. They're all pretty good about it, but obviously the choice is totally up to you."

Ryan smiles. "That's awesome," he says. "I'll probably keep it quiet, at least until I'm more comfortable, you know? I don't want to be 'Ryan, the new guy, he has no soulmate and he's into dudes' before I'm just Ryan."

"Not a bad idea," Connor says, smiling back. "Whatever you're comfortable with is great."

"Thanks, Captain," Ryan says, teasing tone back in his voice, and Connor laughs.

-0-

The thing about having Ryan on the Oilers is that it's familiar, somehow, even though it's nothing like playing with Dylan.

"Hey," Ryan says, bumping into him after the game and after the media and after washing the loss off in water as hot as he could manage. "I'm coming over and we're gonna find reruns of _Friends_ and watch it until we feel better about our life choices, okay?"

Connor snorts. "How is TV going to help us feel better about our life choices?"

"Neither of us is Ross Geller," Ryan says seriously, and Connor can't help but laugh at that.

"Fine," he says, trying to sound way more put-upon than he feels, but Ryan just smiles brightly and follows him out to his car.

 _Friends_ is actually fun; Ryan plays the one with the bagpipes, which leads to them looking up the outtake version on YouTube, which leads to looking up bloopers for a bunch of different shows. It's not that Connor usually stews after a loss, but this is the first time in a long time that he really feels relaxed so soon afterwards. It's nice to just sit back and laugh while they watch Matt LeBlanc and David Schwimmer try not to crack up while they're filming the napping scene.

"Thanks," Connor says when the blooper playlist ends. They're sprawled out on the sofa, not actually touching but not very far apart, and Connor can't really remember the last time he felt so relaxed. "I think I needed that."

"No shit," Ryan says lightly, budging his knee against Connor's. "We're making this a thing, man. Dumb sitcoms and laughing a lot. At least once a week."

"Think we could get the trainers to write prescriptions for it?" Connor asks, grinning. "Watch two hours of _The Office_ and call me in the morning?"

"You're Aly's favourite, so I'm sure you could make it happen," Ryan says. He's smiling at Connor, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes, and Connor has to swallow against the sudden feeling in his stomach. _Not a good idea,_ he tells himself sternly.

"I'll see what I can do about it," he says, forcing himself to smile normally. "But, like. We've got video review tomorrow afternoon, so not tomorrow."

Ryan laughs and nudges their knees together again. "Dylan did say that you ran a tight ship, Cap," he teases. "What, no 'get out of video review free' pass for making you relax a little?"

Connor makes his expression as stern as he can manage. "Hockey comes first," he says, but he can feel the smile tugging at his mouth as he's talking, and Ryan's laughing before he finishes his sentence.

"Right," Ryan says, shaking his head a little. He puts his hand low on Connor's thigh and uses it to push himself up off the sofa. "I guess I'd better get going, then. Don't want to miss curfew when I'm going back to my hotel room for the night."

Connor's not sure what possesses him to reach out and grab Ryan's wrist. "You can take the guest room," he offers when Ryan looks down at him. "I mean. Nursey wouldn't care even if he was here, and it's gotta be better than the hotel." He gets Ryan's hesitance in finding a more permanent place so soon after being traded, he does, but suddenly the thought of Ryan going back to a hotel room seems incredibly unthinkable.

"I'm okay," Ryan says gently, apparently reading some of that in Connor's face. "It's fine, Davo, I swear."

"No, it sucks," Connor says, and he doesn't know why that's what does it, but Ryan smiles a little and closes his eyes, then nods.

"Fine," he says. "But don't blame me if I end up falling in love with your guest room and never want to leave."

"I promise," Connor says, smiling at him and firmly ignoring the way his pulse picks up at the thought of Ryan permanently in the room across the hall from him.

-0-

Ryan doesn't immediately fall in love with the guest room, but when Nursey comes home from his soulmate's place the next morning, he grins when he finds Ryan at the table with a cup of coffee. "Hey, man," he says, swiping the last of the coffee for himself, even though he knows the house rules (whoever brews it gets the last of it). "Gonna move in and three-way split this rent with us? We're dying over here on these poor ELCs."

"Yeah, sure looks like it," Ryan says dryly, looking pointedly at Nursey's expensive fancy coffee machine. "How are you making it, man? Gotta budget real carefully for all the steak dinners out, right?"

"So carefully," Nursey agrees with a grin. "You don't even know, man. Living with your captain might have been a bonus in Brooklyn, but around here, we're pinching our pennies."

Ryan chokes on his coffee, and Connor tosses him a towel as he starts laughing. "Go shower," he says, shooing at Nursey. "We have video review in an hour, and you definitely wore those clothes out of here yesterday."

" _Yeah_ I did," Nursey says smugly, giving Connor an outrageous wink. "Stromer, you riding in with us?"

"Nah, I'm gonna head back to the hotel and grab some stuff," Ryan says before Connor can wonder. "And I'm not laying any claims on the spare room yet, but I will tell you that it was nice to sleep on sheets that don't feel like parchment paper."

Nursey frowns a little. "What the hell is parchment paper?"

Ryan stares a little. "Uh, parchment paper? Like…" He glances at Connor, but Connor shrugs a little. "For baking?"

"You bake?" Nursey says, walking back into the kitchen a little. "Screw saving on the rent, man. If you bake, you can move in for free."

Ryan laughs. "I'm not an expert, but Christmas with my mom is all hands on deck," he says. "I have made cookies in my life."

Nursey turns to Connor. "He's moving in," he says firmly. "Holy shit, man. Cookies."

Ryan laughs again, and Connor knows the smile on his face is probably doing something complicated and telling, but there's no stopping it now.

Video review is fine; they get yelled at a little for last night's defensive mistakes, but it's nothing that Connor hadn't already been playing over and over again in his head anyway. It gives him some ideas for the penalty kill, though, so he sticks around after the meeting breaks up to bounce his thoughts off of the coaching staff for a little while. He's pretty sure everyone else is long gone by the time he gets his stuff together to leave, but there's still a car in the parking lot when he walks outside.

"Hey," Ryan says, climbing out and giving Connor a smile. "Did you get that prescription for sitcoms after all?"

Connor laughs. "No, I was talking to Woodcroft about PK formations. I guess I'll have to try again tomorrow."

"Make sure you do," Ryan says, nodding. "It's very important for, like, your overall health and wellbeing."

"Y'know, I remember looking up to you when Dylan and I were kids," Connor says, opening his trunk and tossing his stuff in. "I can't decide if I'm sad to find out that you're just a giant dork like the rest of us."

Ryan laughs and his whole face brightens. "Well, I always knew you were a giant dork, if that changes anything."

"You're the worst and I never actually thought you were cool," Connor says, grinning as he shuts the trunk. "Were you hanging around here for a reason, or…"

"Yeah, kinda," Ryan says, shrugging a little. "I was wondering how serious you and Nursey were about the guest room, actually."

"It's yours if you want it," Connor says immediately. "Seriously, Ryan. Hotels suck and we have an empty room. And I promise not to hold the cookie thing over your head, though I can't speak for Nursey on that one."

Ryan laughs. "I can actually make cookies, but it might not happen until we have a few days off," he says. "It's definitely going to require a trip to the store, and I'm not baking if you don't have nice baking trays."

"We have…" Connor starts, then shrugs. "I know we have pots?"

"You can't make cookies in pots, Connor," Ryan says, rolling his eyes. "You need trays. The flat metal ones."

"You're welcome to look in the kitchen, man, but I'm gonna be honest with you," Connor says. "I have no idea at all."

"Well, I'm moving in, and if you don't have the right trays I guess I can use some of my non-ELC money to invest in them," Ryan says, and Connor can't help the way he laughs.

-0-

Connor isn't super into going out after every win, but sometimes it's the best way to get the guys to bond, and very occasionally he actually does feel like it. It's the best of both worlds tonight, the guys loud and upbeat after a solid win, Drai declaring that he's taking them somewhere new tonight because he "wants to dance to _dance_ music, not country," the rest of the guys ribbing him but piling into their cars and following his lead. The bar is nice, populated but not overcrowded, and Connor heads to the counter to buy the first round once everyone gets settled.

"Hey, man, just a sec," the bartender says, giving him a friendly smile. She's small, with bright pink hair cut short to frame her face, and Connor has no idea why she seems so familiar, but he could swear that they've met before. Maybe she used to work at a different bar, he figures as she finishes up with another customer and turns to him. "I'm guessing you're ordering a bunch of beer, right?"

"You caught me," Connor says, smiling. "I mean, Molson in pitchers is fine. If they want something fancy, they can come up here themselves."

The bartender laughs. "Solid thinking," she says. "I'll get it started. If you need anything else, give me a yell. The name's Mel."

There's no way the room actually freezes, but Connor feels like it does for a second. "Melissa," he says, watching as Mel whips around, eyes wide, and looks at him. "I think, uh…"

"Well," Mel says, eyes still wide. "That fucking figures, eh? Hey, Rabbit," she yells, not looking away from Connor. "'I'm taking a break. Cover for me."

"Mel," the guy down the bar whines.

"Rabbit," Mel snaps. " _Cover_ for me."

Rabbit sighs loudly, then seems to catch sight of Connor. His eyes somehow go wider than Mel's, but he starts nodding jerkily, and Mel barely spares him a glance before heading to the end of the bar. Connor follows her, feeling sort of like his skin is buzzing, and she gestures through the "Employees Only" door, not looking back to see if Connor's following or not.

"This is," Mel says when the door closes behind Connor. She blows out a breath. "You have my name?"

Connor scratches lightly at his wrist. "I… yeah. It's…"

She shakes her head. "Look, I don't want to, like, hurt your feelings," she says, and he doesn't know her even though his mind is screaming that he does, but it sounds like she's trying to be gentle. "But I haven't been looking for my Connor. I think the whole idea of soulmates is kind of fucked, actually, and—"

"Oh, thank god," Connor blurts out, and Mel's face is a priceless look of shock for half a second before she starts laughing.

"That was not the reaction I was expecting," she manages, still laughing. "Well, I guess I'm not gonna break your heart, huh?"

"Oh my god, I'm sorry," Connor says, half-horrified at himself. "I didn't mean…"

Mel sticks her hand out, still laughing. "Let's make sure, eh?"

Connor can feel how red his face is, but he reaches out and takes Mel's hand anyway.

It's… Connor honestly doesn't have the words to describe it; it's like having two brains at the same time, each with their own thoughts and memories and experiences, but each clearly in his head, too. He can feel surprise, shock, a little bit of resignation that doesn't feel quite like his own but at the same time feels familiar, feels like it belongs in his head just as much as his own embarrassment and relief do.

"Whoa," he mumbles.

Mel snorts and gently disentangles their hands. "Well, I guess that answers that."

Connor can still feel her in his head, but without the skin-to-skin contact, it's much less pronounced. It's like driving through a shitty cell phone reception area; the call hasn't dropped, but he feels like everything's distorted, and he's only getting every third word.

"That was different," he says slowly. "But yeah, I guess we're soulmates."

"You didn't sound upset about me saying I wasn't interested," Mel says cautiously. "And, like, you don't owe it to me to explain, but that's… kind of not what I always figured would happen."

Connor shrugs a little. "I've always known that I wouldn't want a _Melissa_ to be my soulmate like that," he says, not even thinking before the words tumble from his mouth. She's his _soulmate_ ; surely he can trust her with this. "I'm totally fine with us being friends, but…"

"Oh my god," she says, expression going sympathetic. "Shit, I'm sorry. That had to be tough."

"It wasn't my best day," he says, shrugging a little. "I actually…" He unbuttons his cuff and rolls the sleeve back a little, showing her the black rectangle on his wrist. "It's easier."

"Shit," she repeats. She glances up. "I still have your name, but I can probably get it covered, if that's what you want."

"Oh, no," Connor protests. "I mean, if you want to, you totally can? But I'm not gonna, like, tell you that you _have_ to cover my name up. It's just that I didn't want people asking, and when you get it covered…"

"They think I'm dead," Mel finishes. "That's super clever, actually."

Connor shrugs and rolls his sleeve back down. "I know a guy in a similar situation. It's what he and his soulmate decided to do."

"I'll think about it," Mel says, smiling at him. "And, like, I'm against the idea of soulmates being the person you're destined to end up with, but I'm cool with the idea of extra friends if you are."

"I come with at least half a team of hockey players at almost all times," Connor warns her, but he feels the smile tugging at his lips.

Mel laughs. "Bring it on," she says. She opens her arms. "Friend hug?"

"Friend hug," Connor agrees, smiling as he steps in and folds her into his arms.

-0-

"I met my soulmate," Connor says as soon as he and Ryan get home. Nursey had gone to his soulmate's place; part of Connor is expecting Nursey to move in with her soon, and he definitely thinks Nursey was so happy about having Ryan move in so Connor won't be on his own when it happens.

Ryan drops his keys on the floor and turns. "You what?" 

"I met my soulmate," Connor repeats, smiling as he feels Mel in his head, pushing something that feels vaguely like cheerleading at him. "At the bar. She's, uh. Did you see the bartender with the pink hair?"

"Oh my god, yes," Ryan says, smile stealing over his face. "She's your soulmate?"

"Melissa," Connor says, rubbing at his tattoo. "Mel. She's… I mean, we don't know each other really well yet, but she's pretty awesome."

Ryan laughs. "That's kind of the whole deal," he says, leaning down to pick his keys up. "The universe gives you someone who's pretty awesome."

"I thought the universe fucked up for a really long time," Connor admits. "And now I kind of feel bad about that?"

"Yeah," Ryan says. He looks unsure, suddenly. "Is this hug time? This feels like it should be hug time."

"I like hugs," Connor says, stepping closer to Ryan.

"I have seen so, so many photos that are calling you a liar right now," Ryan says, and he's laughing as he pulls Connor in.

"Shut up," Connor mumbles, smiling. He and Ryan are pretty much the same height, which makes for a comfortable hug. Ryan sways him a little, and it's unexpectedly nice.

"So," Ryan says, letting go and taking a few steps back. Connor tries not to let himself be sad about it, but he's only so good at lying to himself. "You told her about…"

"Yeah," Connor says. "I didn't actually use the word, but she got the point. And I showed her my wrist."

"And she was okay with it?" Ryan asks. “I know you said she was awesome, but that's kind of a big thing."

Connor feels the smile creeping back across his face. "She doesn't believe in the soulmates thing? Like, she said that she thinks the idea of soulmates is fucked up. We talked for a while before everybody left, and she said that the idea that there's only one person out there for you is bullshit."

"It is," Ryan agrees. "I mean, I sort of thought that before I met Syd, but she and Erin are one of the happiest couples I've ever met, and they're not soulmates." He laughs a little. "And Syd and I would be super miserable if we dated, too. Sometimes soulmates aren't about the person you're gonna marry, like, at all, but that doesn't mean you're not going to find someone anyway."

"Yeah," Connor agres. He's had the conversation with every single person who knows the truth about his soulmark over the years; this is probably the first time he's really believed it. "I've never really tried before, but I think… maybe I should."

Ryan tilts his head a little and gives him a small smile. "Yeah? You want to find someone?"

"I do," Connor says, and he's not imagining the way Ryan's drawing a little closer, the way he's swaying into Connor's personal space. Ryan's way too close for anything like plausible deniability by the time Connor reaches out to rest his hand on Ryan's hip, but Ryan just keeps smiling at him.

"You maybe want to try looking close to home first?" Ryan asks, somehow half-teasing and half-hesitant all at once. "I mean, I'm looking."

Connor leans in and stops, his mouth close enough to Ryan's that they're sharing the same breath. "I mean, I heard you make cookies, so it's worth a try," he says, and then he leans in and kisses Ryan's smile.

**Author's Note:**

> i know a lot about friends for someone who does not like sitcoms in general or friends in particular. my ex loved it, so i'm blaming him. the bagpipe blooper reel is worth watching, though.


End file.
